This splendid rolltop desk is distinguished by having six legs instead of the usual four.[1] The added pair and the lavish mounts changed the frontal view into a more facadelike structure.[2] The presence of the mounts and the use of exotic marquetry woods point to an affluent patron.[3] Even so, it is not the most elaborate desk designed by David Roentgen during this period. Traditionally, however, it is considered a preeminent example of his technical skill and artistic creativity.[4] The monogram DR inlaid on the drawer above the kneehole indicates the cabinetmaker’s satisfaction with what he must have considered an exceptionally refined desk, as access to its inner secrets can be gained only via the keyhole above his initials.

When the key is turned to the right, the compartment to the right of the kneehole slides forward. A button underneath can be pressed to release its front half. This swings aside to reveal two drawer panels, each with four Birmingham Chippendale-style pulls (see fig. 70).[5] Not every pull is functional, however, for the compartment contains only two deep drawers, not four shallow ones. The veneer, which was cute from matching sheets, has a curtain-like look, even though the grain lines are broken by brass moldings. Pressing in and turning the key to the left opens the compartment to the left of the kneehole; pressing it in halfway and turning it to the left disengages the writing surface, which can then be pulled forward by means of the drop-loop handles; simultaneously, the curved top opens, revealing the interior. The rectangular structure above the rolltop consists of a single side drawer. It is crowned on three sides by a pierced gilt-bronze gallery chased on both the front and the reverse and decorated with gilt-bronze acanthus cones, ornaments that were favorited by the workshop during the entire neoclassical period.[6] The sparkling ormolu and brass moldings have preserved some residue of their original gold-lacquered surface[7].

The colorful chinoiserie marquetry on the desk’s front and sides is set into large panels of maple wood, which may originally have been stained a shade of blue gray. In this case, a blue-gray background would have been exceptionally striking, for the visible grain of the maple would have evoked a steel-blue fabric that was popular in the late 1770s.[8] Like a theater scrim, it would have set off the lively scenes of Chinese life, confining them within an apparently shallow, three dimensional space. The workshop used the vignettes on numerous pieces; they are based on drawings by Januarius Zick.[9]

By the last quarter of the eighteenth century, Parisian cabinetmakers had largely abandoned rococo chinoiserie marquetry in favor of plain veneer with a beautiful grain.[10] This desk must date to a transitional period in the Neuwied workshop, for the interior is decorated entirely in the restrained French neoclassical style. The disparity may indicate that Roentgen was doing "market research" into his customers’ opinion of the new style. Because the Roentgen workshop was famous for its chinoiserie marquetry David discarded it only with great hesitation.

[Wolfram Koeppe 2012]

Footnotes:[1] The text of this entry is a reworked version of an entry by Wolfram Koeppe in Daniëlle O. Kisluk-Groscheide, Wolfram Koeppe, and William Rieder. European Furniture in The Metropolitan Museum of Art: Highlights of the Collection. New York, 2006, pp. 172-76, no. 72.